He stopped and looked up at her and her eyes cleared. She frowned.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Quicker than he expected, she sat up, pulling him up with her, and slid his shirt over his head. Then she reached for his belt.
“Honey, you’re drunk,” he said, trying to resist her.
“I don’t care,” she said, her gaze sharp. “I want you.” She struggled with his zipper and gave a cry of success as it slid down, along with his shorts. She reached for him and he was lost.
This beautiful goddess wanted him. The passion exploded and they fought to touch and kiss each other all over. George ended up on his back with Elle straddling him, such an expression of triumph on her face that his heart flipped over in his chest.
As she lowered herself on to him, he lost himself inside her.
***
The shrill ring of a phone woke Elle. Fuzzy headed and confused, she reached for it, coming fully awake as she realized it was still dark outside.
Good news didn’t come at this hour.
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Hello?”
Next to her a body stirred and with a start she remembered it was George and that they were both still naked.
“Is this Elle Carter, owner of Eat, Drink, Read?” a voice asked.
“Yes.” She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her, and waited for the bad news.
“Ma’am, it’s Ally Cooper, from Bobcat Security. I’m sorry to inform you your café has been broken into.”
Chapter 17
“Broken into?” No, this had to be a dream. She pinched herself and it hurt. George got up, turned on the light and started to dress. Elle blinked at the brightness and concentrated on what she was being told. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said.
When she hung up, she turned to George. “Someone’s broken into the café. There’s a lot of damage and the security company doesn’t know if anything’s been stolen. They’ve called the police but aren’t sure when they’ll arrive. I need to go and check things out. Can you stay with Toby?”
To her surprise, George shook his head. “You’re not going down there alone,” he said. “Give me a minute to call Chris.” He walked out the door before Elle could protest.
Quickly she dressed and followed him out to the living room, where he was talking on his phone.
“You can’t expect them to come out at this hour,” she said.
George hung up. “Imogen and Chris are both coming. They’ll be here soon.”
Elle ran a hand through her hair. “George, this is my problem. If you’ll stay here with Toby, I’ll deal with it.”
“Please. Elle. I don’t want you going out alone.” He walked into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. “Besides you did have a bit to drink last night, and it might not be out of your system yet.”
That made her pause. “You’re right.” She gulped down the water George had handed her. “But it’s not fair to ask Imogen and Chris to come around. Imogen has her party tomorrow. I can take a cab.”
George frowned at her, came closer and put his hands on her arms. “Please, let me come. I won’t go back to sleep until you get home safely and you might need me when you see all the mess.”
Elle sighed. She couldn’t think about that yet or she’d imagine the whole building – and her life – in shards. “Fine. You’d better brush your hair if you’re coming with me,” she said and went to check on Toby.
He was still sleeping soundly.
It was two o’clock when Imogen and Chris knocked on the door. Elle let them in. “I’m so sorry for waking you.”
“It’s no problem,” Imogen assured her. “We’ll keep an eye on Toby until you get back. Don’t worry about anything.”
She would worry, but they were here now, and she needed to go and assess the damage.
George drove the short distance and pulled up across the road from the café. A police car was already there.
The first thing Elle noticed was the gaping hole in what had been her front window. It had cost her a fortune to get the shop’s name decoratively written on that enormous pane of glass.
She reached out and took George’s hand. His other hand ran up and down her arm.
“It will be all right,” he said and she relaxed her grip a little.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to one of the police officers, who was getting something out of the car.
“I’m Elle Carter, the owner,” she said.
The officer checked his pad. “Evening, ma’am. If you just wait here a moment, please.” He carried a kit inside and gave it to another officer.
Elle got her first glimpse inside her café. The lights were turned on, illuminating what had happened. Tables were overturned, chairs were broken and the cabinet that held her cakes was smashed.
Her heart sank; she turned to the book area and froze.
George swore.
Nausea rose so fast in her stomach she had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself retching. Spray-painted in large, red letters over one wall of books was the word WHORE.
Elle swayed and George’s arm came around her, holding her steady. She leaned in to him, drawing from his strength.
“Miss Carter, I’m Officer Oslow.” The man who had been at the car returned. “This must be very distressing for you. Have you got any idea who may have done this? Anyone who might have a grudge against you?”
It was the word painted on the wall that made it personal.
“My ex, Dean Williams, called me a whore today and said I’d pay for rejecting him.”
“But he doesn’t know you own this place,” George said.
He was right. Elle retraced her movements that afternoon and groaned. “After the meeting I came here to pick up the toy Toby forgot,” she said. “He could have followed me.” More nausea rose as she realized something else. “And he could have followed me home,” she said, turning to George. “You need to call Chris. You need to make sure Toby is all right.”
George already had his cell phone out and was dialing.
There was no telling what Dean might do to make Elle miserable.
“Chris, we think Elle’s ex may have done this and may know where she lives. Can you take Toby to my house?” He was silent as Chris said something. “Toby’s been to my house and he knows Imogen. If he wakes up, call me and he can speak to Elle.” Another pause and George nodded in response to something Chris said. “Make sure no one follows you.”
Elle wanted to leave, to go to Toby, and make sure he was fine. If he woke up, he’d be confused and maybe scared.
“He’ll be all right,” George said, hugging her.
“Ma’am, would you like to explain what is going on?” Officer Oslow asked.
Elle told him about the meeting, told him about the restraining order and the other run-ins with Dean, and that she’d left in the first place because of years of physical and emotional abuse. She’d repeated the story so many times of late that it was as if she were reporting something that had happened to someone else. All the time he took notes.
“Your ex has never been to the café?” he asked.
“No. His mother came, but I didn’t tell her I owned it. I said I was visiting a friend who worked there.”
When he finished asking questions he said, “I’ll let the special victims unit know about the break-in. Right now I need you to come in and check the place out, tell us if there is anything missing –” he gave a wry smile “– if you can tell with all the mess – or if there is anything the perpetrator might have left behind. We’re dusting for prints now.”
“I’m coming too,” George said.
The officer shook his head. “I appreciate your concern for the lady,” he said, “but the fewer people who contaminate the area, the better. She’ll be fine with me.”
George protested and Elle turned to him, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ll be fine.” She gave him a small smile. “We want to make sur
e it’s easier for the police to do their work.”
George frowned but nodded. “Be careful.”
Elle followed Officer Oslow into her café. Glass crunched under her feet and she winced. She wasn’t going to be open on Saturday.
“Take a good look around,” Oslow said. “Does anything seem odd to you?”
Elle took her time, shutting off the part of her that wanted to weep at the destruction, and examined it as thoroughly as she could. Not all the tables and chairs had been disturbed: only the ones on the path to the cake display cabinet and those to the book area. She walked slowly, careful where she stepped, trying not to move anything.
The smell of fresh paint was in the air – it probably hadn’t had time to dry yet. She wanted to check, and then if it was still wet, wipe it all away, but she didn’t bother asking if she could. It was evidence.
As she sniffed, she caught the smell of something else. She inhaled again. The slightest hint of cigarette smoke.
“Can you smell cigarettes?” she asked Oslow.
He sniffed and nodded. “Harlam, did you light up?” he asked the other officer, who was dusting for prints.
Harlam shook his head.
“Keep an eye out for ash or a cigarette butt,” Oslow said. He turned to Elle. “Does your ex smoke?”
“When he’s stressed.”
She continued her walk through. The spray-painted books – a whole wall’s worth – were ruined. She wouldn’t be able to sell them and she couldn’t return them. Her stomach squirmed and she crossed her arms over it. How much would her insurance cover? She felt sick and violated. She’d built a safe world, and in an instant it was destroyed. All of the hope and effort she’d fed into her café was for nothing.
Behind the counter, the cash register lay on the floor. The doors to the kitchen and the playroom had been forced open and Toby’s books had been ripped apart.
Elle shook her head, shock and anger warring with each other. It was so senseless.
In the kitchen, cupboards were open and their contents had been pulled out over the floor. Food was squashed and there was a partial footprint on the floor in a pile of spilled hot chocolate powder.
The door to her safe had been spray-painted but not opened. He wouldn’t have found much money in there as Elle had been to the bank the day before, but she was glad he hadn’t managed to damage it.
“Notice anything else?”
Elle shook her head. “It’s all my stuff,” she said.
“Thank you.” He directed her out of the café.
As she reached the door, Harlam said, “I’ve found it.” He held up a bagged cigarette butt.
“Great,” Oslow said. “We’ll check it for DNA back at the lab,” he told Elle.
She hoped they found some and were able to find who did this.
“Miss Carter, it’s going to take us a little longer to finish up here. You’ll need to arrange to make the café secure.”
Of course. She had to get the glass window fixed, but she doubted any glass company would have the right size in stock.
George walked over. “I’ve found a twenty-four-hour glass company,” he said, showing her the website on his phone. “Do you want me to call them?”
“Yes. Please.” The quicker it was done, the better. She turned to the officer. “I wasn’t going to open today,” Elle told him. “Can you tell me when I’ll be able to start cleaning up?”
“As soon as we’re finished here.” He glanced inside. “We’ll probably be another twenty minutes.”
Elle’s mind was already planning what she needed to do. “Can I get a copy of your report when it’s done? I’m sure the insurance company will want it.”
“Sure. Why don’t you both take a seat over there? Officer Harlam has finished that section.” He pointed to the opposite side of the café from the broken window and then walked back in to help his partner.
She rubbed her arms to ward off some of the chill that was creeping in. It was such an awful helplessness – utter vulnerability, like she’d had at the ranch.
She couldn’t let it overwhelm her.
George took her hand. “Chris called to say they’re at my house. Toby woke but he calmed down when he recognized Imogen.”
“They didn’t see anyone?”
“No. No one followed them.”
Elle breathed a sigh of relief. She took a seat at one of the tables and George sat next to her.
“The glass company will be here in about an hour,” George told her. “They’re not sure they’ll have a pane big enough, but if not, they’ll board it up.”
It was one less thing to worry about. She took out her phone. “I’ll call the insurance company, check what they need from me.” She had to do something; she couldn’t just sit still.
After a long conversation with the insurance company they said they’d send someone out on Monday to assess the damage. Elle argued with them for another ten minutes that she needed to clean up everything so she could reopen as soon as possible. Monday wasn’t good enough. In the end the person agreed the police report and photos would be sufficient evidence of the damage.
As she hung up Officer Oslow came over. “We’re finished here. Have you got someone coming to fix the window?”
“Yes.” She checked the time. “They’ll hopefully be here in about half an hour.”
“Great. I don’t think the perpetrator will be back tonight. He did what he wanted.” He handed her a card. “Call this number if you have any questions, and we’ll send you a copy of the report.”
Elle nodded. “Thank you. Can I start cleaning up now?”
“Sure. Just be careful of the glass. You don’t want to cut yourself.” Both officers said goodbye and left.
Elle didn’t know where to start. It all seemed too much.
It had to have been Dean. There was no one else. No disgruntled customer, no staff member who was pissed off, no one she’d had an argument with since she’d come to Houston.
Only Dean.
She hadn’t asked the officer what time the break-in had occurred. The only thing that surprised her was that Dean had had the patience to wait until dark … though if she thought about it he did have a way of stewing over things for hours until they burst out of him.
She looked around at the destruction of her shop. All of her hard work damaged, though not beyond repair. She desperately tried to hold onto that little thread of hope, because right now defeat was her reigning emotion.
She’d been helpless to stop it. The bastard still had the power to hurt her, hurt what she’d fought so hard to build, hurt what she loved. She’d thought after her success yesterday that she’d dealt with him, that he was out of her life, but it wasn’t true.
Would she ever really be free of him?
“Do you want to talk about it?” George’s voice sounded loud in the silence.
Elle sighed. “There’s so much damage. Where do I start?”
“We’ll make a list, be methodical. I’m sure once we get started it won’t be so bad, and everyone will help.” He got to his feet. “But there’s not much point getting stuck in tonight. Let’s just sweep up the mess in the kitchen so it doesn’t attract any vermin. By then hopefully the glass company will be here.”
He was right. She didn’t think she had the strength to focus on more than that tonight. Her mind was heavy with despair and fatigue.
She grabbed her broom and walked into the kitchen. She couldn’t believe how much mess had been made so quickly. Containers of food from the refrigerator had been dumped on the floor, boxes had been sliced open and their contents spilled, and half of her plates were lying shattered on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. They wouldn’t help. Not now.
With a sigh, she started sweeping.
When the man from the glass company arrived he decided he would have to manufacture a new pane. With George’s help, he quickly removed the remaining shards and covered the opening with wooden panels. Elle gave hi
m her contact details so he could call as soon as he was able to replace the glass. As she shut the door behind the man, George came out of the kitchen.
“The food has been swept up,” he said. “Let’s go home. We’ll come back in the morning after we’ve rested.”
Home. Would she ever have a safe place she could call home? Her apartment suddenly seemed too vulnerable. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to see Toby, to hold her child, to make sure he was all right. “Let’s go.”
George called Chris to tell him they were on their way.
When they pulled into his garage the lights were on inside the house and Chris’s car was parked out front.
Elle hurried in to the kitchen where Chris was making coffee. He smiled. “He’s sleeping in George’s bed. Imogen’s with him.”
Elle turned and went to George’s room. There was a lamp on, giving enough light to see Toby was buried under the covers with just his head showing. Imogen was lying next to him, watching him, and she got up when she saw Elle.
“He was a little worried when he woke but as soon as he got here and under the covers, he fell back asleep,” she whispered and left the room.
Elle nodded and sat down on the bed, brushing her hand over Toby’s forehead. He was safe. Mentally she’d known he was but seeing him sleeping soundly gave her the peace of mind she needed. She laid down next to him and pulled him close, needing to be near her baby.
Toby stirred. “Momma?”
“It’s all right, Toby. I’m here now.”
He snuggled closer. “George’s bed smells like him,” he said and promptly fell asleep again.
Elle smiled. Toby was right. There was definitely the masculine scent of George in the sheets.
Not willing to let go of him, she stayed where she was until George appeared at the doorway.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Sleeping,” Elle said, getting up off the bed. “Safe.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged. “Thank you for going with me.” It had been easier with George there. Without him she might have fallen to pieces. “I should go and thank Imogen and Chris.”
“They’ve already gone,” George said. “You’ll be able to thank them later today.”
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